The Marauder's Map: A collection of memories
by Trinity Black
Summary: A collection of short ficlets showing what memories the Marauders have for various locations in and around Hogwarts - MWPP, will contain SB/RL and JP/LE in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

The Marauder's Map:

A collection of tales detailing exactly how the most useful of stealth tools came into being

Author: Black Trinity

Summary: A collection of short ficlets showing what memories the Marauders have for various locations in and around Hogwarts - MWPP, will contain SB/RL and JP/LE in later chapters.

A/N: Reviews, concrit and the like are all appreciated. I hope you enjoy this.

This story can also be found on my LJ at community (dot) livejournal (dot) com (/) tbscribbles - parts may be posted there individually whereas here I will wait until I have a few before posting.

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_1. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

**James Potter: Aged 9 and three-quarters**

September 8th, 1969.

Got a letter from Jacob today. He says Hogwarts is awesome and huge and he's got lost loads of times. He also said that he knows so much magic he's practically a fully trained wizard. I told Mum and Dad, and maybe also mentioned that I'm nowhere near as dumb as Jacob, and that I wouldn't get lost, and I would be fully trained by now. Mum and Dad just laughed in that annoying way that parents do, and said I'd have to wait and see.

The thing is I don't want to wait. It's not fair that Jacob is older than me. I wonder if there is a spell to make me older than Jacob?

September 10th, 1969

I'm in trouble. Mum and Dad caught me in the library again. I tried the whole – 'spell books are interesting, I wasn't doing anything wrong' excuse – didn't work. Then they tricked the whole get myself older plan out of me. Now I'm going to have to wait until I'm older because I'm grounded until about then anyway. Also, even without the parent problem I didn't manage to find a hint of a spell.

Is it so wrong that I just want to get to Hogwarts?

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_2. The Headmaster's Office_

**Remus Lupin: July 1971**

"I am so glad that you could make it," said the old wizard. Remus assumed that this old wizard was the Professor Dumbledore that his parents had been talking about constantly for most of this past week. He looked like a Professor.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world. So glad you could invite us." Remus knew his father was nervous – but wasn't entirely sure why. The Professor didn't seem that frightening. Maybe it was all of the creepy pictures on the wall; having all those headmasters watching was beginning to unnerve Remus.

Professor Dumbledore shook his father's hand. Dumbledore gestured towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, take a seat." His father sat down; Remus was left standing unsure as to whether he should sit too. Professor Dumbledore turned towards him. "You must be Remus-" Remus nodded in response. "Pleasure to meet you."

Dumbledore held out his hand, just as he had to his father. Remus took it. Realising that he too was supposed to take a seat he did so. Dumbledore moved to the opposite side of the desk and also sat down. He looked from Remus to his father. "I assume we all know why we're here."

His father nodded and Remus didn't want to admit he had no clue. Instead he focused on looking around the unfamiliar office. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be books - although some of the books were sharing shelf space with other objects. Remus wondered exactly what most of the things were used for – because everything looked like it had a use. Remus' gaze found a collection of long spiky objects, and his brain decided that there was no possible pleasant use for such things.

"Obviously the situation is unusual, Mr Lupin, but I don't see any major reason why – with the proper precautions, of course – Remus would not be able to attend Hogwarts."

Every part of Remus was suddenly paying attention to what Professor Dumbledore was saying. _Go to Hogwarts?_

"That… obviously that is what we hoped could happen. We just never let ourselves believe it could… I understand there will be some things which need working out-"

Dumbledore interrupted whatever his father had been about to say. "All in good time… Most of the details have been pretty much finalised. I just need you to look things over and say yes. There is of course one more important question-" Dumbledore turned towards Remus, "- do you want to come to Hogwarts?"

Remus did not have to think before replying. "Yes please."

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_3. The Great Hall_

**Peter Pettigrew: 1****st**** September, 1971**

I look around the Great Hall. It deserves its name – it's huge. And more than a little intimidating. Or maybe that is just the mass of other students sat at those huge long tables watching us. How interesting can we be? We're just standing here.

And about to get sorted. Oh yeah… not that it's a big deal or anything. Only the rest of our time at Hogwarts, who our friends are going to be, what Quidditch team you support. Whether my parents will disown me or not.

I hope my dad was joking about that last part… I'm not really the Ravenclaw type.

My parents' blatant favouritism aside, the many pairs of eyes watching us were all adding to the feeling of pressure currently residing deep in my stomach.

I try to pay attention to which houses the other new students are being sorted into, but there are quite a lot of them – not to mention the fact I'm more worried about which house I will be sorted into.

Professor Dumbledore reads out my name – I hadn't realised it was my turn. I walk slowly towards the rather scruffy looking hat. I put the Sorting Hat on. I'm not sure what I was expecting – but I'm pretty sure that the quiet, whispering voice wasn't it.

"Another interesting one… Plenty of those this year and we're only half way through.

"Impatient, I see… You'll have to be patient – I'm not in the habit of sending students home, or to a house that's wrong for them." I was uncertain what to make of the scolding.

"Hmm… I'm not all that interested in what your parents want. We've already decided you are too impatient for Ravenclaw."

I don't remember deciding that – the hat was obviously talking about some other 'we'.

"GRYFFINDOR," shouted the hat. I knew at that second that my sorting was over – and I am pleasantly surprised by the result. I take the hat off and put it back on the stool.

As I walk towards my housemates at the Gryffindor table I'm surprised to discover that I'm not even a little bit scared. In fact I'm actually quite excited at the thought of belonging with other people that are apparently like me. Maybe there is something to this Gryffindor bravery after all.

A rather overexcited boy pats me on the back. "Welcome to Gryffindor! I've been here for almost half an hour and it's brilliant. Sirius, by the way." I smile back at Sirius not really sure what to say. "Another quiet one, eh?" Remus – meet Peter. He's quiet like you."

I wonder whether the other boy is really quiet or just not as loud as Sirius – and also how much Sirius could have possibly learnt about the other boy in a short period of time. I also hope he is willing to revise his quiet opinion. I want to ask him this but Sirius is too busy enthusiastically greeting the next boy joining our house.

I'll find out later – I've got seven years after all.

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_4. Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory_

**Sirius Black: September, 1971**

The dorm room is eerily quiet – Sirius wasn't exactly surprised by this. People tended to be asleep at around two in the morning. If the snores coming from the direction of his roommates' beds were anything to go by – they were all most definitely asleep. And James was having some sort of dragon battling dream.

Sirius wanted to be asleep too. He couldn't fall asleep though – in fact all he could think about was the letter he had received that morning. His parents sounded angrier than he'd ever known them. Well not sounded exactly; they didn't send a Howler, but only because _Black family affairs are not for general public consumption_ - direct quote from the letter. He knew they'd start fuming the second that he had been sorted – but taking his place among the Gryffindors he couldn't find it in him to really care.

And, Sirius had to admit, his new housemates were going a long way towards making him feel welcome. They were a slightly mismatched group – but after two whole days at Hogwarts Sirius knew that the differences between them wouldn't be an issue by the end of the next week. Eleven years of experience taught him that these three boys were going to be very close friends.

Sirius wasn't really worried about his new friends. It was his family that was the problem – angry letters were bound to be just the beginning.

Sirius knew it was too late to change house – so why did they think complaining would help? Then Sirius remembered exactly how much his dad liked complaining – he was probably only angry with Sirius because the editor of the Daily Prophet hadn't made any grammatical errors that morning.

The thought eased Sirius' mind slightly. Maybe now he'd be able to sleep, after all he did have classes in the morning. _'Generations of Slytherins'_ would have to take a back seat to Sirius becoming the best wizard ever known to Hogwarts.

Besides, who would want to sleep in dungeon?

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_5. The Potions Classroom_

**James Potter: Potions class – 2****nd**** week of first term**

"Remus, come here." James hoped his voice was quiet and conspiratorial. Remus didn't exactly have to move far to comply with the other boy's request – they were paired together after all.

James dug around in his trouser pocket for a couple of seconds before pulling out his secret ingredient. "Well? What do you think?"

"Erm… great? What are they?" Remus picked one of the small, brown things out of his housemate's hand and inspected it. He did not look overly impressed.

"Salamander claws." James grinned.

"Oh, cool."

James realised that Remus did not get the point. He din't really mind – his brilliance amazed himself at times. "According to _101 Potions Experiments for the Practical Person_ a mixture of the base of the boil curing potion we have here and salamander claw can be applied to a deck of cards to produce-" James paused in what he hoped was a dramatic manner, "-your very own set of Exploding Snap cards."

"So potions class is useful after all." Remus nodded. "I've already got a deck of Exploding Snap cards though. We can play later if you like."

"It's less about the cards, and more about the exploding part," whispered James. "Watch."

With that James dropped the claws into the potion currently on the bench in front of Remus and himself. A look of terror flitted across Remus' face as he watched the cauldron.

Nothing happened.

"I'm not sure you should use that book anymore, James. It seems a bit wrong." Remus' tone was vaguely consoling. James was comforted slightly; particularly given that Remus didn't seem to want anything to explode.

James decided not to be too disappointed by the setback – there was also next time after all. He supposed he should carry on with the set work; James stirred the potions three times in a clockwise direction – as per the instructions on the blackboard.

The bang wasn't exactly deafening but it was definitely a bang. And after the bang the majority of the potion had evaporated.

"Wicked." James said with a huge grin on his face. Remus looked equal parts socked and worried.

"Detention, Mr… Potter. You too Mr. Lupin."

James was sure that it would be the first of many.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here is the next ficlet in the series. I think that this will probably be the last of the first year ficlets - so I'll be putting on my 12 year old head for the next part (writing from the POV of an 11 year old isn't particularly easy... 12 is getting there...).

This is a little less lighthearted than the last part - but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Also, thank you to those who reviewed last time - all reviews are appreciated. On with the fic...

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_6. The Shrieking Shack_

**Remus Lupin: Full moon night, September 1971**

"Professor Dumbledore has assured me you know what to expect, and that you know this is where you will be staying. He has also promised that there will be some method of ensuring that there will be some method of ensuring no harm comes to yourself, or anyone else for that matter – not that you need to concern yourself with the details." Madam Pomfrey paused, seeming uncertain of what she should do now. "Well, I think that is everything. I'll see you in the morning."

Madam Pomfrey left after that. I don't think she likes me very much, but Mum and Dad had warned me that might happen.

I looked around for something to keep me occupied – moon rise was ages away. The wait is the worst part. There was nothing for me to do of course – I'd only break it anyway. Mum and Dad would have left me the Daily Prophet from that morning.

The thought of my parents set off a wave of homesickness. The feeling surprised me a little – since starting Hogwarts. I'd hardly given my parents a second thought; I'd been having too much fun.

That made me feel guilty.

Although – my parents hadn't sounded overly affected by my apparent apathy, at least in the letter I received yesterday. If anything they seemed pretty happy that I was enjoying Hogwarts. And I was enjoying it; even the lessons were amazing.

I began pacing up and down the small bedroom. It must be nearly time. As much as I dreaded changing once it was over that was it for another month. That feeling was the best bit, despite the ache that would be filling my body. Then again it was still the best bit of something terrible…

What was I going to tell the others about why I felt so terrible? Before I started Hogwarts I hadn't realised that I was going to have friends who cared enough to wonder why I was ill. James, Peter and Sirius all came under that category. At least I hoped they did – maybe I was wrong. That would be a shame – I like them enough to care. Maybe it would be better if they didn't care.

My maudlin mood was cut short by sharp stabbing pain all over my body. My mind slowly slipped out of my grasp. I think I screamed.

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Waking up hurt. I tried to open my eyes so that Mum would know that I was awake. Concious at least.

I saw nothing but a shredded pillow.

The darkness in the room was heavy – something was wrong. This definitely wasn't my room. And my mum wasn't here. I sat up – ignoring the pain; definitely not my room.

_Hogwarts._ The thought came from nowhere, and made perfect sense. My mum wouldn't be coming. I hugged my knees to my chest. I'd said I could deal with this. Didn't stop the loneliness hurting.

I don't know how long I sat like that. It felt like forever.

Eventually I heard footsteps from the tunnel below. Madam Pomfrey entered the room warily. She saw me sat on the bed – pity crossed her face and she hurried over to me.

She pulled her wand from within her robes and prodded and poked – gently – at various points on my exposed back. "Is that any better?" I don't think I answered her – if I did it would have only been a grunt. My throat was too sore to produce actual words. "Alright. Let's get you dressed. Then we'll go to the Hopsital Wing. Much more comfortable than here, and I'm sure you could use the rest."

I allowed the mediwtch to bundle me up, and followed her as she left.

"Your mum has sent you some chocolate. It's waiting for you in the Hospital Wing."

I couldn't help but smile. Mum hadn't forgotten me.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for all your kind comments on the last chapter. To answer a query – yes, I will being doing ficlets from all seven years.

As mentioned previously this chapter marks the start of the second year fics. I would love to know what you all think. Hopefully I will have another update before the weekend – as long as work doesn't suddenly need me. Enjoy the chapter.

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_7. The Quidditch Pitch_

**Peter Pettigrew: September 1972**

The stands roar with the combined excitement of four houses' worth of students – each student having been deprived of Quidditch for a long summer, and all looking forward to the start of the new season. The first game – the one currently exciting a great many students and a fair few teachers – was between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Although any match would have attracted a crowd this particular match had lead to wild predicitions of being 'the greatest match in Hogwarts' history' – in the opinion of many of the crowd the prediction was only wild because the match hadn't happened yet.

Peter Pettigrew was currently standing in the Gryffindor stand with two of his best friends – Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. All three of them were currently awaiting the arrival of their group's missing member on his Quidditch debut.

"I wish it would hurry up and start." Sirius complained.

"Do you have to be so impatient?" asked Remus. Sirius responded with a pointed look which spoke volumes of his lack of patience. "Well be impatient quietly."

"Pete, tell Remus that I'm just excited to see James and that after a rather boring summer… well – this was worth waiting for."

Peter shook his head. "Remus is sat right there – tell him yourself. And anyway – we're all excited."

The argument was prevented from continuing further by the announcer – the long promised match was finally starting. The Ravenclaw team was announced first – there were no surprises in the line-up; it was unchanged from that which walked away with the Quidditch Cup the previous year.

The Gryffindor line-up contained only one change from the Ravenclaw's major rivals of the previous year: James Potter as the third chaser. The Gryffindors, lead by Sirius, Remus, and Peter, had decreed that the second year would bring the trophy to Gryffindor. The Ravenclaws responded with doubts due to 'lack of experience'.

Peter looked towards the pitch in an attempt to find his friend. Currently James was looking a little green and a lot like he might fall off his broom. Peter felt guilty for even having the unvoiced thought that maybe the Ravenclaws had been right about how James would cope.

"He doesn't look good does he?" Remus asked.

"I wonder if he picked up that bug you had a couple of days ago. You were right under the weather." Sirius commented to Remus. The latter boy paled at Sirius' vague accusation.

"I'm sure it's not you fault, Remus. James didn't say anything about feeling ill this morning – and if the way he wolfed down his breakfast is anything to go by, he's fine." Peter tried to comfort Remus – although his words seemed to do little to change the pained look on Remus' face.

"Yeah, what was the idiot thinking?" Flying on an full stomach." Sirius' voice contained concern that only his friends would have been able to discern.

"Potter scores! That second year is really making his mark! Gryffindor lead ten points to zero!" The announcer's voice stopped the discussion for the second time that day.

On the pitch James was performing some kind of victory loop. His face was once again filled with colour, and he looked very pleased with himself.

"Maybe we should pay attention." Peter suggested – not wanting to miss anymore of his friend's achievements.

Sirius and Remus just nodded.

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_8. Hogwarts School Kitchens_

**James Potter: November 1972**

"Where exactly are we going?" Peter asked.

"I told you – it's a surprise." I had told them, numerous times, and I think they were expecting me to slip up and tell them anyway. I wouldn't let this one go – it was too important.

"Are we nearly there yet?" Remus asked.

"Almost. Just three more staircases." In Hogwarts terms that was pretty close, particularly when your starting point was Gryffindor Tower: land of the staircases.

Three staircases later and we arrived as promised. "Ta-daa." I gestured at the painting; the three boys in front of me did not look impressed. "OK – so the painting isn't great but watch this…"

I looked around before backing up slightly. I pitched myself at the painting – my hands landing on the picture to break my fall.

Nothing happened. I tried again – this time my bone cracked awkwardly as I landed; the door didn't open.

Peter asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"He's not just talking about your hand. Have you lost your gobstones?" Sirius' pessimism made me think that perhaps I had forgotten something important.

Remus was slightly gentler, "If you tell us what you are trying to do… maybe we could help."

"I'm trying to open the painting."

Remus nodded. He then moved to the side of the painting and tried to pull it from the wall.

"It won't work if you do it like that. It was a magic doorway, with a magic handle."

"Which you open by falling into it?" Peter asked and I nodded.

"Are you sure you didn't just hit your head?" Sirius again. _Honestly did he not know how to be positive?_

"Pretty sure." I replied.

"Well… maybe it only works at certain times," suggested Remus. I had to concede that he could be right – Hogwarts could be pretty unpredictable. Remus continued speaking. "What did it lead to anyway?"

I toyed with the idea of not telling them – but they needed to know how good my discovery was. "The kitchens."

I don't know which one of them looked most shocked – they all looked pretty pleased at the thought.

"Did they give you any food?" Sirius asked – his attention once again focused.

I nodded. "Cake. And a good cuppa."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt if…" Sirius never finished his sentence. Instead he threw himself at the painting.

"Sirius, stop it. It won't open like that… James has already tried. And probably broken his hand in the process." Remus was right – my hand was throbbing. "We're probably missing something."

"All sirs have to do is tickle the pear."

The voice came from behind us. We all jumped. I spun round to find a house-elf looking at us as though we were mad. Or maybe that's just what house-elves look like. We never had one so I wouldn't know. I'd have to ask Sirius – wait, did he tell us how to get in?

Remus was, as usual, one step ahead of me. He moved towards the painting and brushed his finger along the pear. The door handle came from nowhere – just as I remembered.

He opened the painting to the smell of a bustling kitchen. I'm sure I had a pretty smug grin on my face as the four of us headed into the kitchen.

"You know we're probably not meant to be here, right?" Remus asked.

"Definitely not." Peter added.

"Makes it better doesn't it?" Sirius asked.

None of us could bring ourselves to object – particularly as we were being handed biscuits by the house-elves.


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